


Nursing

by Hekate1308



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:16:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308





	Nursing

Morse had got injured again. This time, a suspect had pushed him down a staircase; thankfully all he had to show for it were two cracked ribs and a concussion, but Thursday was still far from happy.

Of course the lad insisted he was alright, and naturally he’d ignore the doctor’s orders, come in tomorrow, and only take his medication in amounts that were either far too much or too little.

At least he’d put his foot down on Morse driving him home. Tonight, he was going to keep the car; and he’d also be the one to pick up the lad in the morning.

As Thursday watched him walk away, now and then wincing slightly because of his ribs, he had an idea. True, it was rather unfair, all things considered; but drastic times called for drastic measures.

Putting Win on the case it was.

The lad liked her a lot, as he well knew; and there was little he’d be able to do against her fussing over him. Morse was too shy and polite to object.

All he had to do was to explain the young DC’s predicament over dinner. Win immediately knew what was going on, of course. So did the kids.

“Are you trying to get Mum to take on another project?” Sam asked.

“I’m not trying to do anything. I’m just saying, the lad could use some mothering.”

“Fred Thursday, we all know what you are doing, and it is shameful. For that, you’ll have to drive me over after dinner.”

Just as he had known she would. His Win would never leave a poor motherless boy alone to nurse his wounds at a time like this.

He’d never know how she did it, but right before he drove her over to Morse’s place, she packed more leftover than he’d have thought Sam had left in their kitchen.

“Just a little bit of everything. He’s much too thin.”

“So I keep telling him.”

And yet he still continued to have his meals in liquid form, Thursday thought ruefully. If he’d known what would spring out of that one pint after he’d fainted in the morgue...

“We’ll get him sorted out, Fred, you’ll see” Win said lightly, laying a warm hand on his thigh. “We already raised two kids, how difficult can it be?”

He laughed; his wife always knew what to say. “I wouldn’t say Morse is a kid. Might be easier, then.”

When they arrived, Win asked, “Would you mind terribly if you waited in the car? I have the feeling Morse’ll be more likely to object when you’re there.”

Sometimes, she was quite scarily clever, and furthermore, Morse definitely seemed the type to let people mother him as long as nobody else could see, so Fred raised no objection.

* * *

 

He’d been very aware of the worrying looks DI Thursday had thrown his way before he’d left, but really, there was nothing the matter with him. He’d had far worse since he’d joined the police force. Nothing a bit of brandy and some Bach wouldn’t fix.

At least he thought so until his doorbell rang. Irritated – he’d just poured himself a glass and was about to taste it – he limped to the door.

To say he was surprised to see Mrs. Thursday would have been an understatement. “Morse! How are you? Fred said you’d been a bit banged up.”

“Ahm – yes. Don’t worry, Mrs. Thursday, I am quite alright...”

She stepped past him. “I brought you a bit to eat; it’s always the same with these young men who live alone, they don’t even know what they keep in their own kitchen! I am already quite worried what Sam will do, when he eventually moves out...”

Mrs. Thursday disappeared into the kitchen and Morse used the opportunity to get rid of the glass of brandy. With a sigh, he poured it into the potted plant the tenant before him had left. She would hardly have approved of him having a drink after his injury.

He became acutely aware that he hadn’t cleaned his flat in quite a while, and that Mrs. Thursday was probably wringing her hands over the state of his kitchen, so he moved to join her only to wince in pain when his ribs protested.

“I am just warming up – Morse! You’ve gone all pale!”

Mrs. Thursday, who’d thrown a quick glance into the living room, now hurried him into the one comfortable chair he owned. “Just rest for a bit; I’ll bring dinner when it’s hot.”

“You really don’t have to...” he tried to protest, but of course in vain.

Just a minute later she returned with a slip of paper and two pillboxes firmly in her grasp, and Morse remembered too late that he’d left the medication and the recommendation for rest the doctor had given him on the kitchen counter.

“There, this one should help against the pain –“

“I really don’t –“

“I brought you a glass of water.”

And then she held out both the pill and the water with an expression so determined that Morse had no choice but to take them.

“The pain should ease soon enough...”

Under her watchful eyes, he took the pill when he realized she wouldn’t return to the kitchen until she saw him swallow.  

After she did, she turned around and he leaned his head back, closing his eyes. One of the reasons he didn’t like to take pills was that they inevitably made his mind grow a little cloudy and hazy; but it was a relief to feel the pain fade away. He must have dozed off for a bit, sicne the next thing he was aware of was Mrs. Thursday’s hand on his shoulder. She was shaking her head.

“Best if you eat now and then go to bed. You look exhausted.”

“I’m –“

“I know what you’re going to say Morse, but I’ll believe that when there’s some colour on those cheeks and you’ve filled out a bit.”

He’d always been on the thinner side, but he doubted it would make a difference if he said so. While he ate (to his surprise realizing he actually had an appetite) Mrs. Thursday made herself busy by cleaning; he tried to stop her, but in vain.

He probably should have known better by then anyway.

“Fred told me the killer through you down the stairs”.

He shrugged. “To be honest, I could probably have found my footing if he hadn’t surprised me...”

And he’d been a bit slow on his feet anyway, probably from a lack of proper food and sleep, but he’d rather not mention it to Mrs. Thursday. She’d just worry all the more about him.

“So” she decided after she’d made him clean his plate more than once, “Time for bed.”

“It’s only gone nine” he pleaded, “I’ll never sleep through the night if I –“

She held up the second box of pills and he sighed. If there was something he looked less than medicine that made him hazy, it was medicine that rendered him unconscious.

“Don’t give me that look, young man. The doctor prescribed sleeping pills to you for a reason. Probably noticed immediately that you’d rather go without sleep at all than rest after an injury.”

He looked away.

“Hey” she gently touched his shoulder. “Why don’t you get changed? I’ll air out your bed in the meantime.”

His mother had been gone so long that sometimes, he barely remembered what it was like to have one, but he couldn’t help but suspect she and Mrs. Thursday would have got along well.

Just as he expected, she was waiting for him with the sleeping pill in hand as he emerged from the bathroom. “I really think I could –“

“Let’s try one tonight, Endeavour, and see how it goes.”

He hadn’t known that DI Thursday had told his wife what he was called, but to his surprise it didn’t feel as much like a betrayal as it usually did.

He took the pill.

“I’ll let myself out; you focus on getting better.”

He decided it would be best to go the way of least resistance this time, since all others had proven to be ineffective.

The pill worked quickly, and a few minutes later he was already drifting off, believing that Mrs. Thursday had already left when he felt gentle fingers run through his hair.

He must have imagined it.

* * *

 

“He’s dead to the world” Win said as soon as she opened the door. “Small wonder. They’re the same pills they gave you right after you were shot, Fred; always knocked you out for the night, and with him being so thin...”

“I’m just glad he’s getting some rest” Fred replied.

“Oh yes, and of course you’ll drive me here tomorrow morning, won’t you? He needs someone to check up on him. A week of leave, the doctor ordered.”

“Knew he wasn’t telling the truth when he said he was good to work” he muttered. “If we allowed him to camp at the station, he’d never go home.”

* * *

 

Morse woke up slowly the next morning, memories of last night resurfacing as he dozed on and off. When he remembered the sleeping pill, he jerked wide awake. He had no idea how long he’d slept, and DI Thursday might be here any...

His clock told him it was a quarter to ten am. He frowned. Surely he should have –

The doorbell rang and he clamped his mouth shut to bite down a curse. He’d have to let DI Thursday in and excuse the pyjamas.

The embarrassment he felt at the prospect was nothing like he experience when it wasn’t DI, but Mrs. Thursday once more who was standing on his doorstep. “You’re looking much better already, Morse.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Thursday” he replied as she once again bustled past him.

“Fred dropped me off on his way to the station – since you solved the case, he thought he might get in a bit later than usual.”

“DI Thursday isn’t waiting outside?” he asked.

“Not with you on leave. A week, just like the doctor said, Fred decided.”

“I’m fine –“

“You won’t be if you don’t give your body the chance to recuperate.”

He wondered if either of her children had ever dared to attempt something close to teenage rebellion. He’d have thought not.

“But I –“

“You’re quite as awful about taking care of yourself as Fred says. Back to bed.”

“I just slept for over twelve hours!”

“It’s called rest for a reason” she pointed out and Morse knew she’d stand there until he complied, so he did.

She fussed over him for the better part of the day, and he couldn’t deny that part of him rather enjoyed it. He wasn’t used to being cared for like that anymore.

He did, however, try to protest when Mrs. Thursday announced that her husband was picking her up and that Morse himself would get dressed and accompany them to have dinner at their house – and that he was free to stay the night.

Naturally he was overruled.

* * *

 

Fred suppressed a smile as he watched Morse follow Win out of the house looking a bit like a confused puppy.

Nothing beat her when she put her mind to something.

They’d indeed get him sorted. Little by little.


End file.
